


|| John Watson X FtM!Reader ||

by FtDean



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FtDean/pseuds/FtDean
Summary: You have a little argument but it doesn't last long. Just fluff and cuteness.





	|| John Watson X FtM!Reader ||

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess, don't hate my horrible writing I just,,, a had a need for John and I didn't really proof read at all. Just.... Have this.

"It's highly experimental!”

“I don't care John!”

You'd been having this argument the entire way from the bar. Where it had previously been hushed and mostly made of glares, now in the “comfort” of John's shared home it had escalated to shouting.

“Modern science has only come so far (Y/N), even if you find someone willing, it will undoubtedly go wrong!” He didn't look up at you as he toed off his shoes, and hung his coat.

“It is a risk I'm willing to take!” You'd countered, doing the same before following as he stormed upstairs. “John Watson, this is happening with or without you!” You snapped a little louder, slamming the door behind you, “All I ask is that my friend be there to support me!”

“I don't understand why you want to take this risk!” He threw his hands up, exasperated, “You could die!”

“Then I'll die!” You threw your hand up, exasperated, “what does it matter to you?”

“Because-" he grasped you by the arms rooting the pair of you to the spot. “Because I don't know what I'd do without you!”

Silence. For one… two… three beats.

“What?” You said softly, watching the anger in his eyes swirl for a moment before reality set in a little.

“I...” He moved to let go of your arms but you caught his hands in yours. He looked down at your hands. Then back to you. “You are very dear to me. I don't want to lose you.”

“And you are dear to me. But I… I may die anyway without-”

His eyebrows pulled slightly in confusion. You- you'd die anyway? What-when-why… why hadn't you told him?

“Pardon?”

“I-” you took a steadying breath, looking to your feet before letting his gaze again. “If I have the surgery… there's a chance I'll die but if..” you looked up to your dear friend who had what you could safely say was the saddest and most confused expression you'd seen him in. “If I don't there's no chance I'll survive. I need it John. I need it to keep everything away, up here.” You tapped your temple gently twice and he seemed to understand; his posture stiffening and his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly.

“Oh.” It was more of a breath than a reply. “I apologize,” his eyes were on the ground, defiantly coated with shame and guilt, “I'm so bloody sorry.”

A sigh fell from your chest and your shoulders stopped being so tense.  “No, it's alright John. You're just worried about me.”

He shook his head, looking back up at you, “no, it's not alright. I… I know you don't really have a choice.” He stepped forward and patted your arm, “I promise I'll be there for you. And I'm… I'm sorry if I haven't been.”

How could you possibly stay mad at that? The way he closed in a little, ashamed and sorry and stoic. And so very, very, close.

You let out a breath that got caught in your throat as you stared at him, lips parted softly and just the tension of your gaze on each other made you at a loss for breath.

“John I…”

His lips were softer than you were expecting, and his moustache nowhere near as irritating, although it was definitely there, it was more a pleasant tickle.

John released your hands and moved his back up your arms, one going to the back of your head and one to your back, slowly traveling down to your waist. Where as both of your hands settled neatly on his waist and held him close.

You parted with a breathy laugh, your foreheads resting against one another.

“This is new.” You breathed, gaining another sweet breathless laugh.

“Indeed. Perhaps we should look into it further.”

“John Watson, are you flirting?”

He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you up the stairs with him.

“Not yet I'm not.” He whispered, sending an electric pulse down your spine.

 

You were laying in his bed, arms around each other.

It had been just the two of you and your breathing for a few minutes before he turned on his side to look you in the eyes.

“I'm sorry about what I said earlier.”

You looked at him, John Watson, doctor, soldier, detective, handsome man, in all of his bare chested  glory, and gave a small humm before looking back into his eyes, “I'm not.”

He chuckled something about never guessing you could possibly be so lustful, before a soft genuinely caring smile possessed him. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. But it's OK. I know you're just looking out for me.”

Another, albeit less awkward, pause.

“How does this always happen?”

“What?”

“I do something stupid, yet you end up comforting me.” He seemed genuinely confused if not a tiny bit… offended.

You laughed. You couldn't help it. “Id say it's because I'm extremely caring, but let's be honest, I just can't be angry at you.”

He smiled before it took on a slightly more mischievous look, “really?” His hands went back to your naked hips. “Is there nothing I could do to make you angry?”

You chuckled, “I mean, you definitely could make me angry. You do it all the time.”

John gives a mock offended gasp.

“I just can't **_stay_ ** angry at you.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know..” You sighed in thought, just content to be looking at him, a warm smile of your own mirroring his, “all you have to do is look sad and I can't hold my resilience.”

“I could use that information.”

“You won't.”

Again he sounded offended, “what makes you say that?”

“Because you're a good man John Watson.”

There was a pause… a soft chuckle, a shake of his head and then a light clearing of his throat, “not as good a man as you.”

John looked over the edge of the bed and checked the clock pushed up against the far corners wall.

“We'll be needing to get up soon. Sherlock will be home soon enough.”

You groaned softly, “why? He'll figure it out anyway.”

“Might as well look like we tried.” He sat up and gave your leg a loving pat. “Come on, love.”

“Sorry what was that?”

He looked back at you, sighed but smiled, “come on, love.” He said it slower that time.

“Hmmmm." You hummed low and happy, "if I must.”

 

You sat in mostly silence sharing glances and unprompted chuckles for a long time- like lovesick teens, just glad to be with each other. Even if you're separated. Whether it’s parents or the knowledge someone will walk in, you were definitely like lovesick teens.

You’d settled into a less giggly silence, enjoying some tea and newspapers before a loud groan was heard from the door.

“Honestly you two, you're so quiet and bland!”

Again you shared a look, one of confusion before it split into smiles and laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, look at that, you survived my writing! I hope y' liked it and let me know if you want more John! (I'm working on some sherlock but I just,,, its all got strong bromace with john vibes.. I'm sorry)


End file.
